


Last Photo

by barcelona (orphan_account)



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Gen, Paternal angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-09
Updated: 2012-04-09
Packaged: 2017-11-03 08:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/barcelona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something is upsetting Martin, and Arthur gets Douglas to find out what.<br/>For <a href="http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/4207.html?thread=5018223#cmt5018223">meme prompt</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Photo

…

“Douglas?”

“Yes Arthur?”

“Did you say something to Skip again?”

“I’m afraid, Arthur, you’re going to have to be more specific than that. While I’d rather not, Martin and I do converse quite a bit.”

“Well, you know how sometimes you say something, but you don’t mean it, but Skip doesn’t know that, and he gets all bleary eyed and sad?”

“… Does he?”

“Just sometimes, like on really bad days, and it’s not always you. Most ‘times it’s a passenger, but- but we haven’t hadn’t had any today, so… I’m not saying you did, I’m only asking if you did, because if you did… well mum says you should sort it out anyway.”

“Unfortunately, I haven’t spoken to our esteemed captain today.”

“Oh.”

Sigh, “Where is Martin?”

“The locker room.”

“Right.”

…

The first thing Douglas noticed upon entering the airfield’s locker room was the silence of the place. He never liked these things empty, had seen one too many after school specials and horror movies. The florescent lighting hardly added to the appeal. Plus, there were very few fond memories to be made there.

Gently closing the door, Douglas stepped further into the room, trying to remember where exactly Martin’s locker was. Only on the rare occasion that Martin was late or Douglas early would they run into each other there, and oddly never at the same spot. And unfortunately, that day it seemed Martin wanted to hide.

Three rows in and Douglas refrained from calling out, he didn’t want to startle Martin and have him scatter before things were sorted. Arthur had sounded downright distraught when he explained how he had found Martin.

Five rows, six, seven, and Douglas stopped.

He’d found his quarry, and almost wished he hadn’t.

Hunched over in the middle of the bench before an open locker sat Martin, the heels of his hands pressed into his forehead, his hands clenched on the edges of an old, black and gray photo. Restrained sobs echoed softly in the open space, shaking his shoulders.

“Martin?”

Straightening with a gasp, Martin set the photo on his leg and quickly wiped away his tears, sniffling down the last sob, “D-Douglas, what are – what are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” Douglas’ voice was as neutral as he could get it.

“Oh,” Martin said, refusing to meet Douglas’ eyes, “Sorry, sorry, I d-didn’t mean to be late.”

“Well, you’re not, not yet.”

“Oh,” Martin looked about for a moment before he suddenly rose to his feet, “I guess I should-“

The photo slipped from his thigh and slid across the floor, stopping face down at the toe of Douglas’ shoe. Ignoring the sudden panic that struck Martin’s features, Douglas crouched and picked up the photo, reading the inscription “Jennifer Marbella Conner, April 2001,” before turning it over and stalling mid-thought at the sight of an ultrasound, the perfect profile of a child in the peppered grain.

At the end of the second trimester or early third, Douglas reckoned, remembering his own daughter’s development.

Why would Martin have this?

Douglas looked up to find said man staring openly at him, his red rimmed eyes fearful and flickering between Douglas’ face and the photo he held. Quirking a brow, Douglas opened his mouth to say something when Martin suddenly collapsed back onto the bench, clasping a hand over his eyes and taking in large, calming breaths.

Swallowing his question, Douglas sat next to Martin, leaving a comfortable space between them and holding the photo to the side for the young man to take should he want it back.

…

“Th-thank you.”

“Of course… are you alright?”

“No.”

“… Do you want-“

“No! I mean yes, I-I-I mean I will, I just… just give me a moment.”

“…”

“Sorry.”

“No need to be.”

“I-I didn’t mean to snap… like that.”

“Well, considering the circumstances – whatever they may be – I reckon it’s excusable.”

“Yes… well…”

Douglas pulled out a handkerchief, “Here.”

“Oh, thank you, I, um, uh…”

“You needn’t say anything, Martin, if you don’t want to.”

Martin blew his nose, and the two just sat there for a moment, Martin breathing more calmly.

“I’ll – uh – wash this, for you, sorry.”

“Quite alright, why don’t you keep it?”

“Oh, sorry, thank you.”

“Well it’s a spare anyway.”

Martin gave a small laugh, and Douglas huffed, breaking the tension.

Douglas looked down at the picture in Martin’s hand, “Was she yours?”

“Yes.”

“The mother?”

Martin set the ultrasound on the bench and fished out his wallet, quickly producing a small photo from the back.

“W-we met in… in Flight school. She was next door, was going to be a stewardess!”

“She’s beautiful.”

“Y-you think so?”

“Definitely, entirely out of your league, both of them.”

Martin laughed, then closed his eyes and brought his hands to his mouth. Douglas put a comforting hand on his shoulder and Martin took in a shaky breath, wiping away fresh tears.

“I-I know it’s been a while, but…”

“You miss them. How…?”

“Uh, um, p-placental ab-abruption.”

Dear god.

“Martin…”

“I just… I never got to hold, Jenna. I never, even got to hear her cry. Just once, and and I know wanting to hear a baby cry sounds stupidly-“

“No, Martin, it’s not.”

…

“Can you believe, I was looking forward to being a dad? I mean, I’m terrible with children, always have been, but… ”

“It’s different when it’s your own.”

“We had a flat, and a, a nursery, there were these – these plastic butterflies on a mobile – h-hideous! But… she would’ve loved them. I know, I know, because her mother loved them. She did, all those-those stupid little knick knacks, god, the place w-was covered! It probably would’ve turned Arthur off!”

Douglas chuckled, and Martin smiled at the memory.

“Better?”

“A little. I… hmm, I haven’t spoken to anyone else about… well just know, thank you.”

“Does this mean you’ll stop misinforming Arthur that I say bad things to you?”

“Wha- Oh, haha, oh, um, not quite, I-I still need him on my side should things turn south.”

“Hm, I might have to start crying in loos if that’s what wins loyalties.”

“Being a good friend does that too.”

“… Where are they?”

“Hmm? Um, her hometown, it’s not far from here actually. I-I usually… well, we’re on standby aren’t we?”

“Do you want to go?”

“C-could we?”

“I don’t see why not, I mean, Carolyn needs both of us to fly, and as a doctor-“

“Medical student.”

“Former medical student, I couldn’t – in good conscious – declare you fit to do so at the moment. Should she argue, I’m sure I can produce something cleverer."

“Well, from what I’ve heard, our client is an annoyance Carolyn would very much like to inconvenience.”

“So, it all works out if you don’t think about it.”

Martin laughed, “I-I suppose it does.”

“Come on then, we should move before Arthur starts to worry.”

“You, you mean you’ll actually-“

“Martin, I’ve learned it is best not to question a favorable event, though I suppose with your luck you haven’t had enough experience with such things.”

“You were being nice a minute ago.”

“Yes, and you were crying.”

“I-I wasn’t!”

“Sobbing even.”

“Douglas, if-if you even dare-“

“Relax, captain, doctor- patient confidentiality.”

Martin frowned and Douglas held out his hand from where he stood.

“And I believe, you're supposed to trust your friends.”

Martin looked up at Douglas, seeing only sincerity in his eyes, and took his hand.

End


End file.
